


Weird Haikyuu!! Aus

by Asphyxiation (cat_in_my_hat)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drabble, Multi, weird AUs, weird soldier/mercenary au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_in_my_hat/pseuds/Asphyxiation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a mind dump place for weird aus that I have feelings about, but not enough energy to pursue. It's also an attempt to practice world building, which I feel I need to improve.<br/>So, here's a weird ass Shadowhunter au!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Shadowhunter Au

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mind dump place for weird aus that I have feelings about, but not enough energy to pursue. It's also an attempt to practice world building, which I feel I need to improve.  
> So, here's a weird ass Shadowhunter au!!

Hinata’s eyes shine gold.

It intimidates Kageyama a little, because he’s been raised to mistrust eyes like those, to hate the blood that runs under Hinata’s almost translucent skin. The Clave – his mother, his father – would have his head if they knew what he is doing. Who he is with. But (and there’s always a but, when it comes to Hinata) he can’t find it in him to mind. Doesn’t care.

Because here, with eyes that shine like liquid gold and his heart pumping fire through his veins, he inhales and exhales all that is Hinata. Everything pales in comparison to his sunlight, his radiance. (The paradox that is Hinata, he who encompasses the sun, but is born from the shadows, confuses him. Intrigues him. Makes his breath catch in his throat. He loves it). Hinata’s space, his bed, his house, smells of him. It’s messy, filled with tomes of magic and a few stray summoning circles on the wooden floors. Sound echoes off the high ceilings, that Kageyama can’t see in the dull lamplight.

“When they find out,” Hinata murmurs into Kageyama’s bare collarbone, scarred silver by the tools of angels, “They’ll hurt you.”

Kageyama trances veins that glow blue, inhumanely, on Hinata’s shoulder, brushing back the hair that hasn’t been cut in years (decades, maybe. Possibly centuries.) and hums. There is no doubt, to the both of them that the clave will find out. It’s hard, he thinks, to pinpoint what will anger them more – Kageyama with a downworlder or Kageyama with a man. One thing he is certain of, though, is that they’ll be mad. Kageyama will be exiled at best. See Hinata killed at worst. Nothing will be the same.

So he says, “They’ll hurt you too. Possibly, even, hurt you more,” and brushes his calloused fingers across the warlock’s back, stopping only when he hits the base of one of Hinata’s wings, that arch high above them, feathers glowing gold.

(This is the closest to an angel he’s ever been.)

He feels a puff of air glance over his skin, raising goose bumps in its wake, “I don’t care. This is worth it.” The unspoken _you are worth it_ rings between them, a heavy weight that pulls Kageyama deeper in to the molten fire of Hinata’s aura, of his gaze and of his hair, of his skin and of his passion.

“Then you know how I feel,” he replies, tightening his arm around Hinata’s waist, pulling them closer together, and pressing his lips to the crown of Hinata’s head. 

And – they stay like that for what feels like an eternity, wrapped up in a world coloured by hues of moving gold’s and passionate reds.

(They are found, weeks later, in each other’s arms when Kageyama’s parent’s burst into the room on a routine raid, forever distrustful of things born of demons. They are furious. Hinata is powerful. Kageyama is determined. In the end, it’s his parent’s blood that paints the walls and that glue’s Hinata’s hand to his like a seal.

They flee across an ocean. England is good. In England, no one knows him. They know Hinata, though. The werewolves respect him, other warlocks admire him. The vampires invite him into their dens with open arms.

Kageyama likes this world, he decides, when Hinata’s introduces him to a small vampire. Yachi, he calls her. There’s a gleam to Hinata’s eyes that speak of eternity.  
Eternity is – doable. Eternity sounds nice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some additional info for those curious; set just before the prequel series so maybe 1850s??  
> Shadowhunters are half angels and Downworlders are half demon. when i set this, they don't really get along. lil' hina-chan here is a warlock (born of a human and demon). I wanted him to have wings okay 4give me.


	2. Rebel Soldier au

Kuroo Tetsurou is dangerous.

Of course, Oikawa reasons, he’s dangerous for many reasons, first and foremost being his skill with any and all types of firearms. Second being the smile he uses when he slits someone’s throat. Third being his ass in those pants.

Oikawa is very confused. Kuroo doesn’t particularly have a defined ass, but oh _boy_ whoever designed those military-grade slacks had some very, _very_ good ideas. That are distracting because they are in the middle of a _warzone_ and someone gave the freak-combo access to missiles (he would bet his left leg that it was Suga. Fucking Suga). It’s not really an opportune to time to be distracted by his second, much smaller brain.

But. Boy. Those _thighs_.

“Oi, pretty boy,” Source-of-all-of-Oikawa’s-adolescent-issues says, throwing a semi-automatic rifle at him, “Get your head out of the clouds. We have about three hours until they start executing civilians.”

Oikawa catches the weapon and wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. He wishes, suddenly, for a bath and running water and actual, legitimate, cleanliness. But, whatever. He’s in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere and fighting the fight that matters, saving innocent lives and slaughtering the guilty. And he’s got Kuroo, who grins at him like he knows why Oikawa is distracted. Like he’s thinking about their sleeping bags placed next to each other, the sentinel too far away to hear them shuffling together.

“Don’t worry, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa fluffs, pulling ammunition from one of his many pockets and counting it in his head, “I’m feeling good today.”

And – Kuroo leans down and kisses him senseless. Like he always does. It’s not a goodbye, but it could be, one day. Because Oikawa knows that he’ll die out here, fighting the fight that matters. He knows, that Kuroo too, shares this idea. This youthful thought of martyrdom.

But, for now, Oikawa is content to take this kiss as a promise of what will happen later when the fight is over and there is nothing separating them bar hot air and sleeping bags.

(He wonders if Kuroo would be willing to put on a show for him, in those pants).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what this was lol


End file.
